Untamable
by LadyMonoceros
Summary: It was tradition to have one human pet at the Creepypasta mansion. Despite their own immortality, these pets were not. Now, it's your turn, a young girl of 8 years old, to serve and entertain your new masters the way a good pet should; however, you aren't so compliant about the situation. Can you survive the embarrassments and antics of the Creepypastas as you age? [CPsxReader]
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, everyone! I'm back from my "break" of writing stuffs (I actually had no idea what to write, but shhh). Guess what I'm going to explore this time? That's right! xReader fanfics! Hehehehe. I've yet to ever write in second-person view, so this will be great practice. Let me know what you think! :3**

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The dark skies bearing thick clouds released a steady amount of rain upon the several figures that stood encircled around a rectangle of freshly disturbed soil. Distant thunder rumbled, and the wind made several attempts to coo the mourning beings. Tall, dark trees surrounded the event, spreading into a vast forest untouched by human civilization. Some of the attendants of the funeral adorned umbrellas, while others didn't seem to mind the cold rain that soaked their casual clothing.

"It's been sixty years, hasn't it?" A darkly dressed young man broke the silence from behind his blue mask. The empty eye sockets seemed to ooze a dark liquid as quickly as the rain streamed down his hidden face.

"I've lost track, but that seems to be the correct amount of time," replied a much taller being. He was one of the few who appreciated the cover of an umbrella, not wanted to ruin his perfectly fitted suit.

Not that a younger boy, clad in green, minded at all. Water was his element. He died in it, was born in it. "When do we get a new one?"

Cackling echoed from beside the boy. A raspy voice answered cheerfully, "Can I pick it this time?" He drew a large kitchen knife from the pocket of his white hoody and stared at the blurred reflection in his beloved steel. "I'm sure my charming looks will lead it here, no problem!"

"We should have a young kiddo this time," a black and white clown suggested. His pointed nose and abnormally long arms made him seem less friendly that your average circus clown. "But make sure that we won't have to potty train it."

A pair of men, one dressed in jeans and a yellow hoody, the other wearing a brown jacket and a white, feminine mask, remained at the tallest being's sides. They looked up to their master's lacking face, waiting for orders.

"Masky and Hoodie will scout for candidates," the tall, slender man nodded to his acknowledged proxies, and they immediately ran off. "Remember, this is a single pet that we keep until it passes on. We must choose wisely."  
Everyone nodded in acceptance.

"Can it b-be a girl this t-time?" A teenaged boy carrying a pair of hatchets on his waist glanced to his white-hooded roommate. He, too, carried an umbrella over him, though it was torn and tattered, barely able to do its job. "Laughing J-jack always picks little boys, and we could use some f-feminine touch in the m-m-mansion."

Everyone honestly agreed to this idea. The last few pets had been male, and the mansion had plenty of testosterone. A woman's touch wouldn't hurt. Jane never really dropped by anymore, thanks to her and Jeff's endless grudge match, so this seemed like the best choice.

After one last glance at the freshly buried grave, everyone retreated back to the mansion, losing what memories they had of their most recent pet. No need to mourn a silly human. This last one did his job, and now it was time to find someone to replace him. That's how pets worked, right? Surely there was nothing that the Creepypasta mansion wouldn't expect. They knew how to control a human for their own benefit.

...Or so they thought.

At the tender age of eight years old, you were stolen from your cozy home by a pale man with a carved smile. The memory of his frightening face was burned into your eyes for years down the road. What was scarred into your mind was something that would never leave you, though. The smiling man killed your parents.

You had awoken to panicked screaming from your parents' bedroom. Sinking thuds reverberated from the same distance. The gargled whimpering of your mother and father eventually subsided into silence, and all you could smell was the strong scent of iron. After a few moments, your heard heavy footsteps make their way to your room. The door was slightly ajar, and you noticed a shadowy figure mimic the thumping boots that collided with the wooden floor.

The smell of blood was strong now. Your door creaked open, long and slow, as the dark figure pushed his endlessly smiling head into your room. His pale face, his wide, unblinking eyes, all watching you as you sat in your tiny bed, frozen with fear. As the figure pushed his way further into your room, you noticed his otherwise white hoody was stained and splashed with a dark liquid. Never in your life had you seen so much blood in one place. It didn't seem real to you!

"I got a little impatient," the smiling man's raspy voice jolted you out of your trance. He crept his way to you, holding a dripping kitchen knife that you had seen your mother use several times when cooking large quantities of meat. "I miss having a pet at home."

"W-who are you?" Your quivering voice finally uttered something out.

A hissing sort of chuckle escaped the man's throat as he reached the foot of your bed. His fingers gingerly traced the edges of your large blanket as he seemed to thinking of something to say. "Well, little girl," he plucked one side of the covers up as though to examine it, "I'm one of your new masters."

Before you could retort, cotton fabric flew over your, surrounding you in darkness. You struggled and kicked, trying to get out of the tangled mess, but the man easily wrapped your beloved blanket around you. Unfortunately, in all of your struggling, something cold sank into your side.

"Shit!" You heard the man exclaim. The solid flat steel pulled from between your ribs and you let out a pained cry. It seemed to hurt much worse when the blade was escaping you. The man cursed over and over as he gathered you up in the blanket and carried you to only he knew where.

Your breathed began to stagger. Head feeling light, the bouncing of your captor's hurried steps felt more like your were being rocked to sleep. Fear kept you awake for quite some time. The stinging pain and the warm trickling of your own crimson fluids had you sure that you would soon join your parents in heaven. Your eyes grew weak and heavy. Eventually, you wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. Only adrenaline held your conscious in the realm of the living.

After what seemed like hours, there was a jolt to the man's traveling rhythm. Your ears were ringing quite loudly, so being able to understand anything in his panicked voice was impossible. Other voices answered your captor's. They seemed angry.

Another pair of arms snatched you away from the man, though all you could see was the utterly dim light that barely passed through your blanket. You felt yourself carried away somewhere, possibly upstairs, considering the ascending feeling. Then, you felt nothing. Everything was dark as your consciousness slipped away.

Three weeks passed by before you were capable of breathing without too much strain on your lungs. In the mean time, you took full advantage of the strange looking men that resided in the huge mansion you had been kidnapped to. You would often whine that you were hungry and wanted a snack, or that playing games would help you heal faster. Most of them didn't believe you, but there was a distant look of guilty in all of their eyes; or rather, most of their eyes. The one named Slenderman was difficult to read, though you came to understand that he was the leader of group.

Within your time of recovery, you had come to learn everyone's name. Most of them sounded funny, not being a normal name like any other human. It was explained to you that they were merely titles, and that a Creepypasta must never reveal the entirety of their true name. Whatever a "Creepypasta" was, you weren't quite sure, but figured it would be learned over time.

Jeff was who you abused the most. He had the most guilt written all over his face, despite his permanent smile. You also knew that he was the one who kidnapped and stabbed you. Admittedly, you had been terrified over everyone when you first awoke. These scary, disfigured people looked like something out of a horror movie that you once had the displeasure of watching; however, when you noticed that they would often check on your well being, you lost your fear of them and grew a sly idea to take advantage of them.

If you were supposed to be their pet, then you would make them your own pets, for as long as you could.

Slenderman was the one who observed your wound the most. He seemed to be something like a doctor, even though he wore a black suit. The very moment he told you that you could leave your bed, it was all fun and games at that point. You tried to play tag and hide-and-seek with Ben, but noticed that your lung was still a bit weak. Gasping for air, you collapsed onto the floor. Everyone in your blurring vision surrounded you, worried, no doubt.

It was back to bed for you. As for what you had learned, you planned to use your wound to its fullest.

At one point during the night, you awoke to Slenderman checking on you again. He was in the middle of stepping out of your room, silently closing the door behind his incredibly tall figure. You heard voices on the other side of your door. They sounded like Jeff and Slenderman.

"She's still not healed?" Jeff's raspy voice whined, mostly with worry.

"You penetrated the lung quite deep," Slenderman's deep voice replied. "The bottom portion was nearly sliced separate of the entire lung. I expect her to make a full recovery, but we must watch the girl closely. No strenuous activities are allowed for her in the mean time."

Well, that's no fun. It was already incredibly boring being in bed all the time, but Slenderman was right. If you wanted to get better, you had to stop hurting yourself over and over. Still, this didn't stop you from getting attention when you wanted it. In fact, when you would begin losing at board games, you would pretend to hyperventilate and pass out. When you wanted a sweet snack, you would pitch a fit and pretend that your lung was collapsing again. This went on and on for quite some time.

There were times when your captors wouldn't believe you. The funny thing about that was how your lung actually did try to collapse at those points in time. It was weak. Terribly weak. Even pretending to have trouble breathing was a risk that you took far too often. Over time, it did gain back plenty of strength, but it took years, thanks to your version of revenge on the inhabitants of the mansion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Just a note about this story. Most of the chapters will reach up to 1,500 words, so they'll be short. There are others that I'll combine, since this is originally being posted on DeviantArt where I make the chapters a max of 1,500 words for convenience. I hope to only have to combine two chapters at a time for posting here on .**

A big thank you to windwolf1988 and allonsyepicsnowman for favoriting and following. :D

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Five years passed. Your endeavors of torturing the Creepypastas were endlessly fruitful. One would think that they would see through your intention, yet there was always that glimmer of guilt they seemed to have. Was it possible for these devilish beings to feel some for of love? For a some of them, this could be the case. You had learned that Jeff, Ben, Masky, and Hoodie were once human, themselves. The other were mysterious beings that you weren't quite sure how powerful they could get. This never stopped you from arguing back, though.

"Why haven't you cleaned the dishes, _?" Slenderman loomed above you, looking ever so threatening.

You cowered only just, knowing that you had a scapegoat if things got out of hand. "I don't want to clean your dirty dishes," you retorted. Your rebellious teenage self had started to kick in lately. Your face was beginning to break out in weird bumps, and even your chest was starting to develop. Never had you been taught about puberty.

Pinching the area where the bridge of his nose should be, Slenderman sighed, trying to control his frustration. "This is one of your many chores around the mansion. I expect them to be completed each day."  
"I have too many!" With a stomp of your foot, you sealed your words with its effect. "I'm just one person and this is a huge mansion!" You spread your arms wide to emphasize how large the building was to you. At that point, you noticed the tall being draw back his head in what looked like confusion.

Slenderman stared at you for a moment. You began to see just the faintest shade of pink begin to glow on his cheeks. "Oh dear," he mumbled. "Her cycle will begin soon." His words were almost unheard, but they managed to reach your straining ears. As you scowled at the Tall One, wondering what he was talking about, he called out to Ticci Toby, who was in the living room.

"W-what's up?" Toby came jogging over, his mask hanging casually around his neck.

After clearing his throat, Slenderman explained the situation with quite an amount of embarrassment. "Our pet here has begun her stages of maturation. She will require the necessary supplies soon." At that, Toby glanced at you, only to look away and hide his face. Slenderman continued, "You are the only one who looks most human in this mansion. Go and fetch what _ will need."

"I-I don't know what sh-she needs!" Ticci Toby tried to get out of the situation, but he was doomed to follow orders, regardless. His master had done enough research to know what human females used for their stages of maturity.

All the while, you continued to watch them confusedly. What was Slenderman talking about? As Toby plucked a list of the mysterious supplies from his master's hand, he was unable to look at you. This only broadened your curiosity. Toby trudged out of the mansion without a word, which was very unlike his usual stuttering self.

"Follow me, _." Slenderman turned and walked down one of the many halls of the dimly lit mansion. You followed, hoping to get answers, and were lead to the massive library on the second floor. Slenderman traced a finger along the numerous books that lined the room until it landed on what he was searching for. "It's time your learned about your body."

"What for? Is something wrong with it?" To learn something meant that you were in school, right? Was Slenderman going to be your new teacher? It seemed all too strange for him to decide on educating you all of a sudden, but you listened in on what he had to say.

Again, Slenderman cleared his throat. You never quite understood why he needed to do that, considering that he didn't have a mouth, but there were plenty of other oddball things that happened around the mansion. "You are at the age of maturity, _," Slenderman began his lesson. "This means that your body will go through many changes, both physically and mentally."

For the next two hours, you were taught about things you never wanted to know about. Things that you never thought could be so disgusting. Your face had flushed a deep red when the subject of reproduction between a man and woman came around. Then, you considered what would happen to you with so many men in one home with just a single female. What other things did they have planned for their "pet"?

You ran out of the library with tears of fear, darting straight to your room, where you hoped that of all places would be safe. Wild thoughts swirled in your head. What if the Creepypastas wanted you as a sex slave? What if that's how they made more Creepypastas, by breeding with a selected human female? Oh, the crazy delusions you had! You curled into a tight ball on your bed, panic filling you. The adrenaline had your lungs working a little harder than usual, but you did your best to keep them calm so not to have your weak one collapse.

Then, you felt it. The pain in your lower stomach that Slenderman had explained as "cramps". They started out as just a dull pain, but over time, things just got worse. You wanted to gut yourself and rip out your ovaries just to make them stop forever.

A knock at your door interrupted your malicious thoughts. A voice followed, "_?" The door creaked open, letting in some light to your otherwise incredibly dark room. "I know you're in h-here. Slender t-told me." The crumpling and hissing of plastic bags stung into your ears as Ticci Toby approached you. "I have your th-things."

Without a word, you sprung from your bed like a pouncing cat, snatching the bag of feminine products, then dashed into the connected bathroom. The door slammed behind you and you locked it for safety, still worried that one of the men could have their way with you at any moment. You dumped out the bag and tore open the pack of pads that Slenderman had instructed you on how to use. A cautious knock on the bathroom door made you freeze up.

"_, I learned a few things about this stuff when I was st-still human." It was Ticci Toby. Why hadn't he left yet? Was he going to be the first one to claim your body? He continued on, even though you didn't bother to answer, "If you need to t-talk, I don't m-mind. Maybe we c-could find Jane and get her to h-help."

Tears brimmed your eyelids, stinging them fiercely. You stared at the pad in your hands, still not sure if the pain and what it meant was completely normal, despite what Slenderman said. "Am I," your weakened voice cracked just audibly enough for Toby to hear from beyond the door, "Am I going to die?" The cramps were getting worse. They felt close to the pain of Jeff's knife that had pierced into you those years ago. That memory never left your mind, and your mind compared every bit of pain to a possibility of your death.

A light chuckle echoed from behind the door. "No, this is normal," Toby replied. He then explained that during his human days, he used to listen in on girls' conversations during recess in high school. They seemed to like talking about their menstrual cycles and comparing what they had to go through. Toby continued to explain that each girl was different. Some had only a little pain, others had a lot; some bled a little, others bled excessively. "There's also a b-b-bra in there for you," Ticci Toby added shyly. "If it doesn't fit, just let m-me know."

You blushed, thankful that Toby was being so nice to you. In fact, you openly thanked him for it. "Well," he grinned from behind the door, "I like to keep my pets in good shape so they can take care of me."

Of course. That's all you were to the Creepypastas, after all.

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**Thank you for reading! As any author would, I'd appreciate a review so that I know I'm satisfying my readers' fantasies. If you have any requests of the plot, please let me know, but I'd like to keep this story rated T, so please no lemon or too much sexual content.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you, Nutella, for reviewing! And yes, I do plan to make the character be spunky, rather than helpless and stuff. There isn't all that much she can do right now, but later on, I hope to make her put up a good fight with the CPs. :3 As for them not telling her about sex and menstrual cycles until the last minute, it's because they hadn't had a female pet in over 100 years. They kinda forgot. lol**

Also, thank you to those of you who followed and favorited this story. It means a lot. :D

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Another year passed by. You grew used to your menstrual cycle, timing its appearances and understanding your mood swings. One thing that you noticed was that during the painful weeks of "Aunt Flow" visiting, the Creepypastas would disappear for most of the days – much longer than normal. You weren't sure if you should question them about it, considering that this was their mansion and they could do as they please. Still, the curiosity danced in your head.  
As for being a pet to the murderous men, you found that it was more of a maid's duty, rather than the lazy life of a cat or dog. There were times that Laughing Jack or Ben would fight over who gets to "play" with you. These times of entertaining your masters consisted of games such as the typical hide-and-seek, tag, or simply video games. When you had done a good job with your chores, Slenderman would pat you on the head and scratch behind your ear. At first, it seemed strange, but you had grown to see this as a normal reward. Heck, you even got cookies out of it!  
Being fourteen-years-old now seemed like a whole new life compared to when you were first captured. Your rebellious attitude continued to grow with you, but it shined the most during your menstrual cycles. Something else seemed to change about you, too. Nothing physical, but an emotional feeling you hadn't experienced before. When the men would run around the house, changing out of their blood-stained clothes, they didn't seem to mind being mostly undressed around you. Laundry was an all day, every day chore for you, so dealing with the underwear wasn't your problem. No, the physique in your masters is what you began to notice.  
Considering their daily activities, it was no wonder that each of the Creepypastas has fit bodies. Each of the varied, of course. Masky and Hoodie were muscular all around, though not incredibly toned. Eyeless Jack was sleek, yet still intimidating. Ticci Toby, while not highly toned in his abdomen, had well build arms, most likely due to his common use of his hatchets. Jeff had a built frame similar to Masky and Hoodie, though he was much thinner, despite what his attire tried to hide. Laughing Jack and Slenderman were purely lanky; skin and bones, at most, yet had the toning of very in-shape beings. Each time you stole a glance at their shirtless torsos, you had to hide your deepening blush.  
Life as a human was almost nonexistent to your memories these days. You knew no other males besides your masters. To feel attracted to them this way was certainly confusing, but you held these strange emotions within deep within you, convincing yourself that it was just something to do with your hormones. In this case, you were correct, but in other ways, there was something more.  
One particular day had you questioning your status among the mansion.  
Eyeless Jack had returned from one of his usual hunts. Everyone else had gone to either do the same or simply harass humans to entertain themselves. Jack swung open the door, careful not to let it slam into the wall, and immediately began tugging off his black hoody. You were in the middle of folding laundry on the living room sofa while watching some movie that you plucked from the shelf. Out of nowhere, a blood-stained mass of black fabric flew into your face and bounced onto the pile of freshly folded clothes and towels you had worked so hard to catch up on.  
"What the hell, Jack?" You spun around in your seat just enough to glare daggers at the now shirtless gray-skinned man. Feeling the heat rise up into your cheeks, your turned back around and plucked the the hoody from your pile, only to find that some of the blood had gotten onto the first layer of clean laundry. You sighed, trying not to bother with yelling at Eyeless Jack. He didn't treat you as kindly as the others.  
"Got any clean ones for me?" Eyeless Jack's bare skin closed in on you. His smooth set of abs hovered at the corner of your eye.  
Grumbling, you responded while trying not to look at him, "I had one, yeah, but you just got it all dirty." You grabbed the less stained trademark top that Jack requested and held it up as proof of your accusations. Still, you tried not to look in his general direction.  
The hoody was snatched from your grasp as Eyeless Jack inspected for a brief few moments. He then tossed it back into your lap and said, "Guess you'll have to wash it again. I think I have some more in my room, anyway." He slipped off his mask and tossed it to the floor as his heavy footsteps trailed off down the hall that lead to a flight of stairs.  
Of all the Creepypastas that resided in the mansion, you hated Eyeless Jack the most. He treated you like a literal slave. There were times that he would even make you fetch items for him like some dog. In the end, you were a sort of pet to them all, but Jack seemed to take it one step further. It was as though he resented you, but you couldn't understand why. This didn't stop you from back-talking him, even though you often received punishments that none of the other masters used.  
Eyeless Jack was abusive to you. He never threatened your life, but when he came to teaching you right from wrong – in his book – he would range from simply slapping you in the face to making you sleep outside. This, of course, all happened outside of the view of the other Creepypastas. You often wondered why Slenderman never stepped in, since you knew that he could see all that was going on in his domain. Perhaps Slenderman was turning a blind eye? Figuratively, of course.  
Pondering all of this, you concluded that it might not be useful to consult the Tall One about Eyeless Jack's treatments upon you. It didn't feel right, the way he treated you, but you told yourself that at least he didn't threaten your life.  
"_!" Eyeless Jack called to you from down the hall.  
With a heavy sigh, you placed all the newly dirty laundry into an empty basket and stood up. "What is it?"  
"How many times do I have to remind you how to address me?"  
Again, you sighed, this time rolling your eyes, "What is it, Master?" You emphasized the title with an excessively sarcastic tone.  
Something jingled from down the hall. It gradually draw closer, along with the thumping of familiar footsteps. You leaned over to peer down the dim corridor, only to see a newly dressed Eyeless Jack carrying some sort of chain and rope in one hand. A toothy grin stretched across his gray face. "How about you and I go for a walk?" It was then, as Jack entered the living room's light, that you noticed he was holding a collar and leash.

You knew better than to fight his commands. You learned the consequences over the years, but still you couldn't help struggling at least a little. As Eyeless Jack clasped the black leathery collar around your neck, you made a snarling expression in some hopes of intimidating him. It didn't work, of course.

The jingling of the chain leash rang in your ears as Eyeless Jack yanked it, signaling for you to follow. Reluctantly, you began to trail along the man's footsteps, only for him to stop in his tracks. With a sly grin on his gray face, Jack turned his head to look over his shoulder at you. "Not like that," he said.  
Quirking your brow, you only stared up at Eyeless Jack with uncertainty of what he was talking about. He snickered at you, that devilish grin curling on his lips, and said, "On your hands and knees – like a dog."  
Your cheeks puffed out. The very thought of degrading yourself so low was infuriating! To hell with the consequences. You were fighting back on this matter. "I'll walk on two legs, thanks." Folding your arms across your still growing chest, you stood your ground.  
What followed next was something you should have expected. Eyeless Jack's grin fell to a gentle smile. He placed a kind hand on top of your head as though to pet you. Then, his hand became incredibly heavy as Jack pushed down on you. Still, you strained to hold your posture. Your legs began to quake under the immortal's strength, until finally you couldn't muster your own any longer.  
You collapsed to Eyeless Jack's desired position, hands and knees, and all you could do was blush heavily as you struggled to steady your breathing. Anger filled you. Even if Jack was your master, this was humiliating!  
"Okay, get up," came Eyeless Jack's voice. You looked up, a little confused, but relieved. His cheeks were flushed pink as the Creepypasta had trouble making eye contact with you. "I just wanted to see if you were really do it," he added.  
"Not willingly," you muttered. Without further hesitation, you rose to your natural upright position.  
"Eventually, you gave in," Jack grinned shyly. You had never seen him act this way. Sure, he tried to be all cool and cruel to you, but there was the strange side of embarrassment that he was making a poor attempt of hiding.  
Folding your arms over your chest again, you huffed. "I didn't give in! You forced me!"  
A hand contacted the side of your face in a familiar rough manner. Eyeless Jack had slapped you. It wasn't enough to leave a mark, just a stern tap. He said, "When will you learn not to back-talk?"  
Your eyes narrowed at the gray human-like creature in front of you. Never would you get used to his abusive actions. None of them were necessary. For now, though, you only remained quiet. You had enough of arguing with Eyeless Jack and his antics. "Let's just go," you sighed.  
With the jingling of your chain leash, Eyeless Jack lead the way out of the Creepypasta mansion. Slenderman's forest was something you had grown used to. It was normal – what a forest should look like. You barely knew what the green leaves of tree and bushes should look like in the human world. Here, everything had a sad, gray tone to it. The nearly black bark of the trees stood stiff just like Slenderman's form. Any stranger of this forest would swear that every tree was the tall being, but you knew better.  
As you and Eyeless Jack strolled through a common path of the forest, the silence overwhelmed you. It was eerily quiet, compared to the the interior of the mansion. The heavy air weighed down on your eardrums, but something about it was incredibly soothing, almost as though you could just fall asleep were you stood. Not even the typical ringing of your ears could be heard. The stillness of the forest was baffling. Dead.  
"Hey," your one-of-many master's voice broke the silence, "you've actually been good so far." Eyeless Jack stopped the both of you, turning around to grin slyly. He was up to something again. "Want a treat?" His hand dug into his hoody's pocket, stirred a bit, then pulled out one of your favorite candies.  
Rarely did you ever get to have candy like this. To receive treats from any of the Creepypastas was a normal thing for you – when you behaved. You salivated, but not enough to drool out of your mouth. Your eyes locked onto the delectable, you waited patiently, excitedly. Something deep down told you that this was wrong, but even your parents from long ago would give you snacks if you were a good girl.  
Your parents didn't make you do tricks, though.  
"Sit," Eyeless Jack commanded.  
Frowning inwardly, you did as you were told. You plopped your butt down onto the leafy ground and gazed up at your gray master with begging eyes. Embarrassment filled you, but you complied nonetheless. Eyeless Jack complimented your adherence toward him, then offered the candy as he held it down to you. When you reached out to take the treat, he retracted.  
"Dogs don't have hands," your master sneered. He offered the treat again, closer to your lips.  
The sweet, sugary smell wafted into your nostrils as the candy brushed against your soft lips. Slowly, you parted them, though your cheeks burned with a shade of deep pink. You bit onto most of the candy, careful not to bite Jack. Your lips only just touched his fingers, which smelled of the leftover stains of blood. For a moment, you gazed up at Eyeless Jack, half-expecting him to steal the treat back, but he only watched you curiously. As his fingers released the treat, you moved your lips enough to pull your desired candy into your mouth, then chewed, still watching Jack.  
"You're welcome," Eyeless Jack grumbled. You thanked him hurriedly. He only smirked at how nervous you were around him now – how submissive you could be when the two of you were alone.  
This didn't mean that you wanted to strange they gray man at times. God, if you could, things would probably be blissful at the mansion. Eyeless Jack was probably the only one of your masters who actually treated you like a traditional pet – like animal. Granted, to them you were a completely different species. They were Creepypastas – however that came to be a species name – and you were a human. If anything, you were the inferior creature in this realm that you were stolen to. You were like a dog to them, and Jack knew it.  
Eyeless Jack's sudden sniffing of the air derailed your thoughts. He hurriedly stood you up, then took of your collar. "Let's get going," he muttered.  
The two of you jogged back to the mansion, never stopping for a break. While your gray master was doing fine, you were growing breathless. Being stuck in the mansion had its downfalls when concerning your strength and endurance. Maybe it was time to start exercising during your down time.  
Huffing and puffing, you were out of breath, and nearly collapsed onto the forest floor. Eyeless Jack quickly noticed that you had fallen behind, so he did what you would have never expected him to do. He lifted you into his arms, cradling your smaller form, and carried you call the way back to the mansion. The collar and leash remained stuffed into his hoody pocket as though he were hiding it from someone.  
When the two of you reached the Creepypasta mansion, you entered the front door to find Slenderman standing at the pile of partially folded clothes in the living room. Eyeless Jack placed you onto your feat as the taller being glared in your direction.  
"Why have you abandoned your chores, _?" Slenderman watched you closely. He was probably searching your thoughts to detect lies. Why he needed to even ask you, you never knew.  
Stuttering nervously, you replied, "I-I went for a walk with Jack." You shrugged toward Eyeless Jack, who hung his head away from you. "I need to get exercise since I'm stuck in the mansion all the time." Most of this was the truth. Heck, this was a good opportunity to suggest it to your masters.  
For a few silent moments, you expected Slenderman to lash out at you. He was so unpredictable. When you looked away, trying to break the awkwardness of the silence, the Tall One's deep voice sounded. "Fair enough. Just be sure to finish your chores before going out from now on."  
A sigh of relief escaped you. Eyeless Jack strolled away before further questioning was moved to his direction. Something told you that he may have crossed a line with the collar and leash thing. Still, you didn't tattle on him. There would certainly be repercussions if he were to get in trouble on your own accord. Instead, you returned to your seat on the sofa and continued your original duty of folding clothes while Slenderman watched. You couldn't quite tell, but he was either making sure that you finished them this time or he was ensuring your safety from Eyeless Jack.

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**Sorry about the weird formatting of the paragraphs in the middle. The copy and paste part is weird about that. *shrug* So, I'm sure you guys can tell that EJ will be the "domantrix" sort of character now, for all you kinky lovers. lol It won't get much worse than this chapter, though. As stated before, I don't plan to make this story's rating any more than Teen.**

Please review! And thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**After this chapter, I'll be caught up on what I have so far on DeviantArt. This means, that my updates may take a little longer on here, compared to the rate I've been posting the chapters. Sorry.**

**Man, I've been getting a butt-ton of views, but barely any feedback. :( Thank you, Nutella and B.A. Goes. RAAWWR, for being so supportive! And thank you, to those who added this story to their follow list since last chapter.**

**I'm hoping that the lack of feedback isn't a bad thing. Anyway, here's the Jeff themed chapter!**

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A typical fifteen-year-old would be excited that they were old enough to earn a driver's permit. Any normal fifteen-year-old human would beg their parents every waking moment until they were signed up for driving classes. You were not a normal fifteen-year-old. You were a pet, which you were constantly reminded, whether it be through blunt words or subtle actions by your masters.

Rather than focusing your eagerness over driving a car, which you had only seen in movies or on TV shows, you appointed you energy to the largest chance you would ever have to making your masters proud. It was time for you to learn how to guard the mansion.

For the past six years, you were never left completely alone. Slenderman would remain telepathically connected with the mansion's surroundings in case unwanted company would ever arrive. There were the rare occasions of more feral Creepypastas attempting to devour your tasty human flesh, but your masters were always on watch enough to protect you. Now, though, you were dubbed old enough to handle yourself in these dire situations. That is, once you go through self-defense training with Jeff the Killer.

"Once you have them pinned," the perpetually smiling man instructed, "use your weapon to stab them senseless!" He then proceeded to imitate what he had just said by stabbing the air with his overused kitchen knife. It was almost as though Jeff enjoyed every thought, every action of puncturing someone with a sharp edge. Not that this was a surprise to you. Killing humans was just a typical thing for you nowadays.

There were times when you had to clean up trails of blood or help drag a corpse into the mansion because one of your masters wanted to toy with the bodies for a while longer. How they "toyed" with these bodies, you didn't know. You preferred not to know.

Nodding that you understood your instruction, you held your eyes on one particular corpse that Jeff brought home this morning for your lessons. He seemed to keep his distance from you, preferring that you practice on the body, rather than himself. There was a familiar glimmer of fear in his unblinking eyes, though this one seemed much more concerned than normal.

"Try doing it how I showed you," Jeff's raspy voice cracked you out of your thoughts. You nodded and assumed the position that your master suggested. The victim on its back, one arm above its head while you pinned it with one hand, the other arm at its side while you knelt down on its elbow. This way, all of your weight was on the fake attacker's upper body, and you still had one free hand to punch or stab it freely.

Once you were in your supposed correct position, you looked up at Jeff with expecting eyes, no completely sure if you were doing this right. The pale man studied you for a moment, then hesitantly moved closer. "You need to even out your weight distribution," he critiqued. "If your victim tries to use its legs, then you'll just fly forward." Jeff placed both hands on your hips, pushing down on your lower body firmly. "Make sure to have enough weight on your legs, too."

Something surged through you. The warmth of Jeff's hands near your waist felt odd, yet soothing. You didn't quite want him to stop. You almost wanted those hands to slide around your torso and pull you into an embrace.

No, wait. This was your master!

Your cheeks burned red as you looked away and nodded. "Okay," was all you could utter.

Jeff stepped back, not noticing your strange reaction to him. "Balance and weight is key to your advantage. You'll have to learn how to adjust it as needed with practice." He drew out his knife from his hoody pocket and jabbed it into a nearby tree. "Now, let's learn some hand-to-hand."

Straightening your body out, you stood from your position over the corpse and stepped off of it. To think that this supposedly innocent human died just so you could practice self-defense with them was almost bothersome. It felt like a waste, but maybe you would use it again later on.

Approaching you again, Jeff raised his fists in front of him like the boxers you would see on television. He suggested you do the same, and you shyly did as you were told. Your heart raced, afraid that the two of you were get right to the punching. You had very little idea of how to fight, though the programs you had watched gave you some clue.

"Mirror my feet," Jeff mumbled.

You looked down to see Jeff's legs spread shoulder width apart, one a little further than the other. Adjusting as told, you waited for further instruction.

"Try pushing me," Jeff suggested. You placed your hands on your master's forearms and put in all of your weight, but he just wouldn't budge. Granted, this was a Creepypasta compared to a human's strength. Even after your dedicated workout routine, you were nowhere nearly as strong as them. "See? Center of gravity," Jeff smirked, enhancing his carved smile.

You nodded and stepped back in awe. If it were to ever be possible, you would love to become as strong as your masters. You would love nothing more than to their most successful pet. It had become apparent to you that there was no other future, no other title for you to gain. Still, you tended to forget you place within the mansion, whether it be these strange feelings you were growing, or simply the quarrels you would start with your masters.

For the next hour, Jeff went over strikes and defensive positions with you. Many of the punches and kicks were familiar from the television programs, so imitating them was easier to you. Jeff worked you hard, pushing you until you were heaving breaths of air in and out of your lungs. He even began making you perform push-ups and sit-ups when you made mistakes, saying that if you're to guard the house, then you should be able to stand up against a Creepypasta. He was right, of course. If you couldn't make him budge, then how did you expect to fight a real enemy?

Still, your quick progress was impressing Jeff. He was about to offer you a treat when the right side of your body felt numb. You collapsed, gasping desperately for air.

"Shit!" Jeff exclaimed. He knew exactly what was going on, and so did you. Your stupid lung had been overworked and gave out. "Slender!" He called out, picking you up into his arms. Jeff sprinted to the mansion with your body held close to his chest – his incredibly firm chest.

When the two of you reached the mansion, Slenderman was opening the doors, beckoning Jeff inside. You were quickly laid on the floor as your vision began to blur. Jeff and Slender's heads hovered over you. You could hear Jeff apologizing over and over, blaming himself for pushing you. Just as you slipped out of consciousness, one of Slenderman's tendrils slipped down your throat.

Waking up to a starchy-skinned man with an exaggerated carved smile on his face would make just about any human mess their pants. You, however, were not that majority of humans. This face had become one that you grew up to respect and pity. You also took advantage of the face's owner quite often. As he gazed at you with those wide lidless eyes, you groaned at the light of your bedroom that stung your own orbs. "Jeff," you grumbled, "quit staring at me like that."

"Sorry, kid," Jeff back away into the chair he had placed at your bedside. "I just feel awful about pushing you like that. I should have known better." This guy was a pushover sometimes. It was baffling to think that his typical insane self was the complete opposite of what you were witnessing.

You then noticed how parched your throat was. It also seemed oddly sore, as though you had swallowed something much larger than you should have. "Quit apologizing and get me a glass of water," you waved your hand dismissively. "I gotta get stronger somehow."

As Jeff stood up to do as he was told, he replied, "But your lung will only get weaker this way." Then, he walked out before you could retort.

Honestly, Jeff was right. As you pushed every other muscle in your body, your lung was suffering dramatically. You hadn't had a collapse like that in about two years. When you would exercise, you made sure to take frequent breathing breaks, but maybe that was hurting you in the long-run. There was little way to be sure. All-in-all, you would probably never fully heal, considering that your lungs were muscles that your body had to use almost non-stop – similar to your heart. This was a frustrating matter, and you constantly blamed Jeff for it, though your fury had long since subsided to a very mild form of sadness.

You knew that Jeff stabbing you was all an accident, but his carelessness caused you permanent suffering that you would have to live with. Sometimes, though, you thought you saw another form of suffering that Jeff was going through on his own; one that still dealt with you, but he had his own pain. That glimmer in his eyes. It was so said and regretful.

"All right," Jeff's raspy voice broke you out of your thoughts, "here's some water. Slenderman said that you need to take it easy at least for today." He handed you the glass, which you graciously accepted by chugging down its liquid contents with eagerness.

With a hasty release of the breath you were holding, you sighed, mostly satisfied with the relief the water had given you. "I'll just do the easy chores, then." Such chores would be anything other than sweeping and heavy lifting.

"I'll help," Jeff quickly offered. You quirked a brow at him, not sure how he could help with tasks that even your much younger self had long been capable of completing. He explained, "Like carrying the clothes baskets and stuff. You can fold the clothes, but carrying all that might put a strain on you."

You rolled your eyes, "Fine, fine." Making your own master do your work for once sounded like a great time, actually. You had only managed to convince Jeff to do smaller things, like getting you a drink or a snack while you were busy.

Considering that you slept most of the previous night away, you decided to do the rest of your afternoon chores that you needed to catch up on – most of them, anyway. Jeff actually volunteered to finish what chores you couldn't stress your lungs with. All the while, you wiped down the kitchen and set the dishes washing. It was nearly three in the morning, but since you had unwillingly gone to sleep so early the day before, there was little else you could do.

A weary groan echoed from behind you while you finished loading the dishwasher. "Good to see you're doing better, _, but why do you have to clean so early?" It was Ben. He stopped at the doorway as he rubbed one of his eyes, leaning against the door frame.

You had grown up with Ben quite well. Since the two of you were, in a way, nearly the same age when you had first been kidnapped, you had gotten along with him. Video games and typical child's play were your way of spending time with him. As the years went by, you aged, but Ben seemed to stay his twelve-year-old self. The two of you had become best friends, though he would often use his "master" title to control you, when needed.

"Sorry, Ben," you smiled at the boy who now looked much younger than you. "Just catching up, since I was out of commission yesterday."

"Did you punch Jeff for making your lung collapse? I give you permission to punch him," Ben smirked sleepily.

You chuckled, closing the dishwasher and setting it on. "I'll take care of it when he gets back."

"Where'd he go?"

Before you could reply, Jeff entered from the shadows behind Ben, carrying a hefty basket of dried laundry. He answered for you, "Helping _ out. Slender says she can't exert herself for a day." Jeff then eyed you and nodded his head to the living room's direction, letting you know that he would be placing the basket in there.

A snigger escaped Ben, and you watched him tilt his head mischievously at Jeff. "Man, she's got you whipped."

Just as Jeff was turning to go in his intended direction, he froze. Slowly, he raised one leg as though to take a high step, black pants and shoes melding with the darkness beyond the kitchen. Then, before Ben could catch on to what happening, Jeff kicked the young Creepypasta with more force than necessary. Ben slammed into the door frame, and you could tell that his hip was pinched by the corner of it.

"Damn it, Jeff!" The green-tunic boy grimaced. He then hobbled a couple of steps and tackled Jeff from behind. The two toppled over into the darkness, where you could barely see the fresh laundry flying out of sight. The basket tumbled into a wall with a loud bang. Surely, it woke most everyone up.

As the Jeff and Ben wrestled on the floor, you cautiously walked over to flick on the light. When the short hall became illuminated, you found Ben being pinned down in the familiar position that Jeff had taught you yesterday. His knife hovered readily at Ben's neck. Underwear and socks managed to find their way on both of the males' heads, and everything else had been scattered all over the floor.

Why the fight had paused wasn't because of you, nor the light that came on, but _who_ turned on the light.

At the base of the stairs near the end of the hall stood a darkly robed Slenderman. The deep shadows on his brow indicated his irritated scowling. Jeff and Ben knew that they were in trouble. They didn't have to be told what for or how to fix it. The two simply got up from their froze struggle and went about their ways.

You helped Jeff put the laundry back into the basket. Ben grumbled to himself as he approached the staircase, where you no longer saw Slenderman. Honestly, you found the whole situation rather amusing. A chuckle escaped your curled lips.

"What's so funny?" Jeff glared at you as he lifted the fully basket.

Shaking your head, you tried to put your words lightly, so not to get the same treatment as Ben, "Sometimes I think he's right."

Jeff's typically white face flushed deep red as he bit his bottom lip, trying to think of something to say. Unfortunately, the guilty truth is always silent. "Just," Jeff turned around and headed for the living room, "come on. You've got a lot of chores to catch up on."

"Yes, Master Jeff," you rolled your eyes, grinning to yourself. The emphasis you put in your master's title made it all seem too ironic for you. In retrospect, Jeff had become your pet, but you would never openly point that out to him. Why spoil the fun?

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**Hooray! :D That was fun, right? Right? (I think I kinda found it boring, but I really wasn't sure what to write up.) I'm sure things will get better as I get used to the characters and their personalities.**

**Thank you for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**It took a while, but I made it! There's actually more of a plot, now, too. lol**

**Anyway, so here's the next chapter! I hope you guys enjoy your time with little ol' Ben. :3**

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Hardly a week went by since your struggle with Jeff's generosity. He seemed to have given you space, though he continued the training every other day to let your lungs relax. Surprisingly, you were able to catch up on chores pretty quickly, though you had your suspicions that Jeff was doing them behind your back. The hard part was proving these idea correct. Jeff the Killer was a sneaky one, that's for sure.

That being said, since your chores were caught up, you decided to take a well-deserved break and relax on the sofa within the living room. A nice movie seemed like a wonderful idea to change the mood, so you plucked one from the shelves and popped the disk into the player.

For the entirety of the movie, nothing happened around the mansion. It was quiet, as it tended to be, while the Creepypastas were out on their hunts.

Just as the credits began to roll, though, the Tvstarted a strange series of static and distortion. The sound twisted until you could vaguely hear your name being called. "_. _." It groaned, sending shivers of fear through your chest.

You knew who it was, but the effects always controlled your emotions.

"D-darn it, Ben!" You managed to utter through your quivering lips. "It's still not funny!"

The frightening distortions on the TV immediately ceased. What replaced them was a hand reaching out to you. It phased through the glass, a familiar face following the appendage. This all continued until the green-cladded boy crawled outo f the otherwise friendly television. He looked terribly similar to the girl from "The Ring" that way. "It's funny to me," Ben grinned as he stood up in front of you.

Clutching a decorative pillow that you had been leaning on, you threw it at Ben's face. He caught it without hesitation. Then, with a smirk on his preteen face, Ben calmly stepped closer to you and smacked you on to the head with the pillow, "Bad human!"

The impact left you a little dizzy. It was difficult to tell if nBen was playing or being serious. All you could do was freeze up and hope that he would make is intentions clear.

Upon noticing your stiffened form, Ben paused, quirking a brow at you. "Has Eyeless Jack been messing you again?"

"Wha-" You looked at Ben, surprised that he knew about the blue-masked man's controlling behavior.

"I've known for a while," Ben took a seat next to you, tossing the pillow in your lap. "There's not much I can do, since everyone sees me as still a kid."

It was true. Poor ben held the eternal physique of a preteen. Even though he was much older than yourself, you couldn't deny that you were starting to see him as the younger one. To be honest, he still acted his age, only sometimes showing his mature side when necessary. This Creepypasta was unpredictable in his own fashion, too. You never really knew where he was or what he was doing after Ben entered an electronic. Still, the Link knock-off was one of your better masters.

With a gentle smile, you assured Ben that Eyeless Jack hadn't hurt you recently. "He's actually been avoiding me lately." The realization entered your mind, causing you to drift your gaze toward the ceiling in wonder.

"Good." Ben nodded in acceptance and got up to put on another movie. He chose a horror one. You didn't see what it was called, but the devilish grin the boy wore spelled out the genre pretty well.

After popping in the new disk, Ben hopped back on to the sofa and scooted close to you. "Cuddle me," he said bluntly.

You froze after a shocked whip of your head forced your eyes on Ben. "Excuse me?"

"No," Ben scooted closer to you, his warmth incredibly apparent now. "Cuddle me. That's a command from your master." He glared up at you sternly, though the height difference was only by a couple of inches.

Unable to disobey him, you began to adjust yourself until your head was resting on Ben's shoulder. He sighed in frustration, throwing his arm around you and pulling your body closer until you were practically laying on the boy.

"There," he said. "Horror movies are more fun when you have someone to cuddle."

It was your first experience with this sort of thing. The only reason you even knew about it was from romance comedies and such. The odd thing was that you actually liked this whole cuddling act. The warmth of Ben's form soothed you, nearly melting away the soreness of your muscles from all the training Jeff had given you. A vague gust of air swept down over your nose, repeating at the steady rate of Ben's chest movements. You felt like you could just fall asleep without a care in the world.

The movie kept you from doing just that.

Horror movies didn't really bother you. Living with the Creepypastas got you used to any horrors that might lurk in the darkness. It was a wonder, then, why on earth Ben would want to cuddle you during a supposedly scary movie when he, himself, was a figurative monster. Was he actually afraid? It didn't seem that way, seeing as Ben never even flinched during any of the jumpscares. When a victim in the film would get attacked, Ben would chuckle.

This guy was treating a horror movie like a comedy! That still didn't justify his oddly intimate behavior.

Still, you remained silent and watched the movie to its end. Only then did Ben push you off of him and get up to return the disk to its case.

Ben turned to you, digging in his pocket, and pulled out a wrapped candy. "You were such a good girl the whole movie. That deserves a treat." He tossed it to you, watching your eager self snatch the sweet lump of sugar out of the air and unwrap it with precise fingers. A smirk curled on his lips as he watched you pop the candy into your mouth and swirl it around to savor the taste.

There was a knock at the mansion door.

No one who lived there ever knocked, and this was the first time anyone ever has.

You turned your head to face the direction of the knocking. Uncertainty washed over your face. Should you answer it?

"Stay here," Ben commanded. His eyes narrowed toward the door as he took determined steps in its direction. You did as you were told, watching from your spot on the sofa. Never had you seen Ben so serious.

Ben disappeared down the foyer. The door creaked open. Silence.

Kneeling in the seat of the sofa and leaning over as far as you could, you tried to catch sight of the front door, but it remained out of your view. A click of the door signalled it had been closed. You hoped it was your master – or one of them.

The quick pace of heavy footsteps entered your ears, and then you saw Ben. He looked terribly concerned.

"What was it?" You squeaked out. Maybe the horror movie did effect you, at least a little. This was convenient timing.

Ben snatched your wrist and pulled you off of the sofa. "Come with me." He didn't say anything else as you struggled to keep up with his pace. You were lead to a room on the second floor of the mansion; one that you were familiar with as "the Safe Room".

It was created through Slenderman's intention to protect the residents of the mansion from rogue and less sophisticated Creepypastas. With the nearly exaggerated reenforced chamber, there were devices to ward off every single being that had been documented – even the residents. There was no food, due to the various diets of your masters, but a stock of bottled water was set away in one corner.

You didn't have to ask what the problem was, nor why Ben had brought you to the Safe Room. One thing did prick at your mind, "Who's here?"

The door was secured before Ben replied to you. He seemed hesitant, at first. "A rogue Creepypasta. I've only seen her wandering the human world." Ben took a seat on the floor, looking helpless. "We'll just have to wait until she gets bored or one of the others get back."

"What, you can't fight her off?" You sneered at Ben, amused that he was so vulnerable outside of his element.

Your young-looking master cast a threatening glare at you. His eyes soon looked away ashamedly as Ben began to explain the situation. He conveyed that this woman Creepypasta was incapable of dying, due to Time, itself, refusing to give her a chance to be with her lost love. She was incredibly skilled in martial arts, so fighting her alone would be risky. "Our only plan against her is to outnumber the lady, restrain her, and have Slenderman drop her off somewhere far away."

Accepting the situation, you sat next to Ben, sighing. "Why is she here?"

"I don't know," Ben shook his head. "She only goes after women who are in love or have lust for someone."

At his words, you blushed heavily. Was it your fault? Had you developed feelings for one of your masters without knowing it? No, that couldn't be right. You cared for them, as any pet would, but you didn't have romantic intentions for them, right? That would simply be wrong! They weren't even human anymore, so wouldn't that count as something similar to beastiality?

You shuddered at the thought just as there was a firm knock at the Safe Room's door. A voice, humored, yet tragically tearful, sounded from beyond the secured entrance, "I smell your feelings, little girl. Let me in so I can teach you that they're all for nothing!" The woman cackled, then burst out into a fit of crying.

For several minutes, both Ben and yourself were forced to listen to the woman's uncontrollable weeping. It seemed to shake your very core with a feeling of impatience and anticipation. Would the two of you have to listen to the woman all day?

"Let me in!" The woman's voice screeched from the other side.

Despite your flinching, Ben didn't seem fazed. An expression of pity seemed to fill his eyes. He gazed at the floor, possibly trying to ignore the insane woman who had intruded the mansion. You watched Ben, silently begging him for a solution. Even though you had been going through training only recently, there was no way you were ready to fight off this Creepypasta.

"Just try to ignore her," Ben mumbled. You nodded and attempted to do as you were told.

For another full hour, you and Ben listened to the woman cycle through delirious threats, to fits of crying, to enraged outbursts of bashing the door. You could do nothing about it, left to wonder about the stages of insanity and if you might ever be that way. You fretted over whether or not the woman might be capable of breaking down the steel door somehow. The sobs of the deranged woman echoed to your ears as though she had alreadey broken into the room. Her screams peirced your mind, forcing you out of your state of bliss when you would learn to ignore the weeping. Constant threats of ripping off your ring finger had you questioning the woman's motive. By the end of the hour, you were clenching your ears in a desperate effort to block out the insanity beyond the door. You could only imagine what the outside room looked like – probably cluttered and broken.

The abrupt sounds of tumbling and grunting were muffled from outside the Safe Room. Ben stood up, pressing an ear to the door. You followed suit and heard several voices from beyond your confinement. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, there was silence once again, save for a feminine voice trying to scream from what sounded like a cloth gag.

"It's safe," called Hoodie.

Ben unlatched the numerous locks of the Safe Room's door and slowly swung it open. "It's about time someone showed up," he joked.

By the time you had full view of the outside room, the woman was gone. Masky explained that Slenderman had taken her away already. This was fine for you, because you had been thoroughly shaken up by the event. Having to listen to the woman's hysterical tantrums for so long would cause anyone to go a little unstable.

"You okay, _?" Ben eyed you worriedly. Sure, he liked to scare you every once in a while, but even he looked a little bothered by it all.

For a few moments, you desperately tried to gather your courage. Your lip quivered. Your shoulders shook, despite your best efforts. Finally, you broke out into tears. Ben took you into his arms. Mask and Hoodie looked at each other in confusion.

"You'll have to get used to this sort of thing, _," Ben cooed, patting your head through your soft hair.

"I thought," you choked through your tears, "I thought I was." You wrapped your arms around Ben, gripping the back of his shirt and crying still. You were ashamed that you had let your nerves best you. You frightened much more than you had allowed yourself to believe.

Ben steered you to your bedroom, unable to carry your slightly larger self. He tucked you into your bed, sitting by your side until you fell asleep, despite you not wanting to. Still, it might be the best way to calm yourself.

As your mind drifted away from consciousness, the woman's crying faintly echoed within your mind. The last thought you had was the pondering of how someone could love another so much that they would go insane. Hopefully, you would never have to suffer in such a way.

Meanwhile, beside your now slumbering form, Ben watched you for a few more moments. He held your hand tightly, reassuring your subconsciousness that he was still there. Masky and Hoodie crept into your room, whispering to the green-clad Creepypasta, "How is she?"

Ben stood from his place at your side, replying, "Asleep. We'll have to talk with her when she wakes up. Maybe you two should help her get used to these sorts of things." It was true. Masky and Hoodie were the only Creepypastas closest to still being human. They would know the best way to overcome fears.

Both masked men nodded to Ben. They exited the room to plan out their time to spend with you.


End file.
